


He Was a Punk, Pete Did Tabletop Roleplay

by MsCaptainWinchester (rons_pigwidgeon)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alley kissing, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Drunk Peter Parker, Food Sex, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Pancakes, Punk Wade Wilson, School Reunion, Shortening As Lube, Teacher Wade Wilson, Veteran Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23076337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rons_pigwidgeon/pseuds/MsCaptainWinchester
Summary: Peter should have known that he would be a pariah coming to the reunion three weeks out from being named seventh on the Forbes’ 30 Tech Up-and-Comers Under 30 list. Even Flash had tried to strike up a conversation in the buffet line, and he’d pushed Peter into a bush sophomore year of college. He's starting to regret coming, but then..."Deadpool?"
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 620
Collections: A Labyrinth of Fics, Isn't it Bromantic?





	He Was a Punk, Pete Did Tabletop Roleplay

**Author's Note:**

> I have several people to thank for this story finally getting posted after more than a year of angsting over it. If I hadn't had the help of [Jennicide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yenyen/profile) and [Vixen13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/profile), I would probably still be staring at an unfinished sex scene with a blank brain and continued frustration. So, go find their phenomenal stuff and give them some love. They both deserve it!
> 
> Thank you also goes to my lovely beta, HelaZ, for reading through my nonsense and making it better!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Minor Trigger Warning: Accidental Outing. Peter is a (very) minor celebrity and is publicly outed without his knowledge. Peter isn't upset by this himself--he was never really in the closet, the subject just never came up--but it this might upset you, you can skip the final scene.

“Two IPA’s and an extra dirty martini, please,” Peter asked the bartender, conscious of several pairs of eyes on him. He should have known that he would be a pariah coming to the reunion three weeks out from being named seventh on the Forbes’ 30 Tech Up-and-Comers Under 30 list. Even Flash had tried to strike up a conversation in the buffet line, and he’d pushed Peter into a bush sophomore year of college for the grievous offence of having been in Flash’s way. 

Peter looked down at the scratched surface of the bar, pretending to be interested in the initials someone had carved into it to avoid the gazes of his classmates while he waited. He should have sent Ned for the drinks and stayed in his hidey-hole with MJ in the back corner booth of the bar. 

“Forbes did you dirty, baby boy. You’re easily the hottest techie on that list,” someone said as they stepped up next to him and knocked on the bar with scarred knuckles. Peter looked up to find a man smiling down at him, taller than him and as far as he could tell, at least a few years older. He was massively built, easily twice Peter’s size, and most of what Peter could see of him was covered in burn scars, but something about him sparked familiarity.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked, looking for a name tag to try and jog his memory. The man had one stuck to his shirt—a form-fitting t-shirt with a picture of Celine Dion—but all that was on it was a picture of a red circle with black half-circles bisecting it and little white triangles that looked like eyes. Something about that was familiar, too, but again, Peter could not figure out why.

“Like you don’t know. Look at you! Those big Bambi brown eyes, that floppy hair, those cheekbones. That booty.” He looked behind Peter with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows that almost would have made Peter laugh if it hadn’t been directed at his butt. “Stunning. Those hipster wannabes higher up on that list wish they were as hot as you.”

Peter suddenly found his cheeks warming. He should have been offended by the blatant flirting, but he couldn’t help but be flattered by the sincerity. “It uh… it wasn’t that kind of list,” he explained, coughing around his embarrassment. 

“No? Should have been. And you should have been top. Or bottom, whichever you prefer.” He winked, and Peter was instantly struck by the realization of where he’d seen that wink before. Every morning before Physics II freshman year. 

“Deadpool?” he asked, unable to believe it. He was suddenly taken back a decade and a half to the senior hallway of his high school, and his biggest crush. 

Wade Wilson had been the stuff of legends in his high school, held back a year for terrible behavior, drummer in the most popular punk band in the county. He had piercings all the way down his ears, his nose, both cheeks, and three in his eyebrow. Peter had been nervous being the only freshman in an upper-level physics class, doubly so when the infamous Deadpool had sat next to him on the first day with his studded leather jacket and his two-inch tall leather combat boots and a foot-high lime green mohawk. Wade took one look at him and tweaked his nose, winking at him just before Mr. Del walked through the door and started class.

Every day after that first, Wade had booped him or said something teasing or suggestive and winked at him, and every day Peter had done everything he could not to drool or die of embarrassment. Occasionally, he even managed to shoot back a snarky response when he was feeling particularly confident. It had been the most intimidating and thrilling experience of his entire high school career. 

But there was one thing.

“You graduated when we were freshman. What are you doing here?” he asked, unable to stop the word vomit from falling out of his mouth.

Wade winked at him again and leaned into his shoulder as if to tell him a secret. “I know a girl.”

Peter shouldn’t have been jealous, but a bit of it crept up despite his best efforts. “Oh. Does your significant other know you’re over here hitting on one of her classmates?”

Wade’s smile grew exponentially devious, and he leaned in closer to Peter’s side. “Jealousy is a good look on you, hot stuff, but I’m not that kind of sleaze bag. I might look like a sack of rotten avocados, but I’d never do a girl dirty like that. You remember Domino from your year?” Wade indicated a table in a corner opposite where MJ and Ned were still waiting for their drinks. A beautiful woman sat laughing with a guy with a maroon manbun and a brunette guy in a leather jacket. Manbun had his arm around Leather Jacket. Peter vaguely recognized the first two, but the last one he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. 

“I teach at the school now, and bumped into Dom while they were doing the alumni tour earlier. She used to help load equipment for our shows. She invited me to come. I’m never gonna turn down an excuse to get drunk with old friends, so…” He shrugged as if to say ‘here I am’ and swiped one of the beers the bartender had left in front of them and took a swig. Peter had been so caught up in Wade that he hadn’t even noticed they’d been delivered. He should bring his own drinks back to MJ and Ned, but something about Wade made it hard to want to walk away. 

“What do you teach at the school?” he asked instead, taking one of the IPAs and drinking from it. 

“Family and Consumer Science. Sewing. Welding, when it’s on offer.”

Peter didn’t know how to respond. Wade Wilson, so cool he had groupies, a nickname so infamous people whispered it behind his back when he walked past, and a literal mythology, taught Home Ec at their former high school. And sewing. There had been a website dedicated to his exploits, back when Geocities was still a thing and people still had MySpaces. Wikipedia was still in its infancy, but Deadpool had a page on it. Still did, Peter assumed, if he looked for it. He wondered how hard it would be to update with this new and starting information.

“That’s… not what I thought you’d say. Not music?”

Wade shrugged. “Not like they let you teach electric guitar in orchestra. Besides, I don’t really play anymore.”

“Why not? You were amazing,” Peter couldn’t help but gush, leaning into him without intending to. 

“Went to my shows, did you? Cute little nerd like you? You’d have been trampled.” Wade smiled down at him, leaning into him just as close, as if the two of them were being pulled by magnets. 

“I made MJ take me. I uh… I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. I used to sneak out when my aunt and uncle were asleep to go see you.”

“I wish I’d known my favorite little freshie was sneaking out to my shows. You definitely would have gotten a backstage pass.”

“Was there a backstage area at Laramee’s Banquet Hall and Catering?” Peter teased, grinning at the over-exaggerated offended face he got in response. 

“I will have you know that Laramee’s was a classy establishment. They made sure the bathrooms had at least three cockroaches in every stall.  _ And _ fresh dog feces in the back alley to step in no matter what time of day or night. How dare you besmirch the good name of upstanding Marshall Laramee.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. He definitely didn’t get indicted for illegal gambling machines and serve time in federal prison. I must be thinking of a different Marshall Laramee.”

“I know not what you speak of, and will not have you speak ill of such a reputable businessman. He served alcohol to teenagers, after all. The man was practically a saint.”

“I’ll be sure to send a prayer his way the next time I set foot inside a church.” Sometime during their banter, they had gravitated closer until Peter could see the gray flecks in Wade’s eyes when he smiled. 

“You want to join me and my compatriots over in the corner, and you can regale us with stories of the lifestyles of the rich and famous? I hear Tony Stark likes to do naked yoga in the lab at three in the morning.”

Peter rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Tony does a lot of over-the-top things, but I draw the line at working while a naked man does yoga in my workspace. I should probably get these drinks back to my friends. I’m surprised MJ hasn’t stomped over to snatch her martini from me already. She gets cranky when her olive supply gets low.”

Wade’s face fell a little, but he nodded and leaned out of Peter’s personal space as if accepting that he was being rejected, which was  _ not _ what Peter wanted. “Maybe we could drag your table over to the booth and all hang out together?” he suggested quickly. “I think MJ and Domino had a thing Junior year? MJ still talks about her sometimes.” 

Wade instantly perked up. “Oh yeah? Sounds like they need a reunion.” He grabbed the beers he’d been waiting for and led Peter back towards both of their tables. Peter could already see Ned’s wide eyes at who Peter had been talking to. He started whispering not-so-subtly as soon as Peter reached the table. 

“Who’s that guy? MJ thinks it’s Deadpool, but there’s no way he’s here. That dude’s a legend. He wouldn’t be slumming it at a high school reunion for a class he didn’t even graduate with, right?” he asked as Peter handed him his beer. 

“That’s him,” Peter said, handing off Michelle’s martini and sliding into his side of the booth. “Domino invited him.”

The loud shriek of metal scraping across a floor quickly followed, along with a female voice muttering, “You’re a grown adult. You don’t know how to pick up a damn table? I don’t know how anyone lets you teach children.” 

“Are they…?” MJ asked, much quieter than Ned had been.

“They’re going to join us, if that’s okay? I know you had a thing with Domino for a while, right? We thought you might want to, you know, reconnect.” Peter resisted waggling his eyebrows at her, but couldn’t hide the suggestive tone from his voice. MJ shot him a look, but she darted a very interested glance Domino’s way the very next second, so Peter didn’t feel too bad.

The tables were merged a moment later and a grinning Wade slid into Peter’s side of the booth and draped an arm across the back, effectively boxing Peter in. Peter gave him a fond smile, not minding one bit. “Guys, you remember Wade Wilson, I’m pretty sure? Wade, these are my friends Ned and MJ.” 

They both waved, Ned staring at Wade like he might be an angel or something. Peter would admonish him for staring at someone with so much facial disfigurement if he didn’t know Ned was really staring at Wade because of the reputation, and not the scars. Wade didn’t seem to mind. He grinned and introduced Domino and Ben (previously known as ManBun), who Peter recognized now that they were within a few feet as the captain of the fencing team and drummer of Wade’s band, known in high school as Shatterstar. Leather Jacket turned out to be Ben’s fiancé, Ric, from San Francisco. 

Once the introductions were over, Ned leaned as far over the table as he could, clutching his beer in both hands. “So I gotta ask, what’s Deadpool doing at a high school reunion in Forest Hills? Shouldn’t you be off playing a show in Belfast or something?”

Wade laughed loud and sharp, shaking his head. “Punk is forever, but it doesn’t pay the bills. I’m glad you thought I was good enough to still be making money from the band, though. Did this minx sneak you out of your house to come to our shows, too, or was that just this gorgeous lady?” Wade indicated Peter as the minx and MJ as the gorgeous lady. MJ bit an olive off the little sword in her drink with an unamused stare.

Ned’s grin grew wider. “You were a legend in high school. I heard you brought a goat to school, dyed it the school colors, and tied it to the roof of the baseball dugout.”

“I put him in a little boat and let him float around the pool, actually. The water polo team turned him into their mascot. I get into their matches for free now.” He winked at Peter and took a drink.

“Wait, so that was true?” Peter hadn’t believed that rumor at the time, and he was going to need a few more details to believe it now.

“He wanted an adventure.”

MJ narrowed her eyes at him. “How many mushrooms did you do before he told you that?”

“MJ!” Peter cried at the same time that Wade said, “It was ecstasy.” 

“And that time you chased a guy down a city block for stealing your wallet?” Ned asked, undeterred. 

Wade frowned, looking over at Ben in confusion. 

“I think he’s talking about that dickbag who stole the cash box from that show in Hudson Heights you ran down and pepper sprayed.”

“Oh yeah, that guy was an asshat. Made it ten blocks before I knocked him down, though, gotta give him that.” Wade raised his bottle as if in salute to the guy and took a swing. 

“What about the time you threw dog poo at the superintendent because she tried to get you suspended for skipping class to smoke behind the janitor’s shed?”

“That was me actually, but it was more of a ‘hiding a bag full of dead fish in the back of a drawer at the bottom of her filing cabinet and waiting the three weeks until she found it.’ And I didn’t get caught, by the way, unlike some people,” Domino explained, giving Wade a superior smirk. Wade flipped her off with the hand still draped behind Peter. 

“Who gave you the cigarettes?” 

“Nathan.” 

“Whatever. You would have died of boredom without me around.”

“I would have graduated early,” Domino argued, and Ben pointed at her in agreement, a knowing look on his face.

“Michelle, I thought I saw your name on a Bitch article about prison reform and the lack of feminine hygiene products in women’s prisons. Good shit,” Wade said, turning his attention away from his friends.

MJ looked surprised for the fastest fraction of a second before her usual aloof face settled back into place. “Tell that to the women bleeding through their jumpsuits and being penalized for it.”

“I think I’d rather jam a used pad in the wardens’ mouths and make them listen to Nickelback for an hour, but okay.” 

MJ turned to Domino without acknowledging the comment. “Did I see pictures of you throwing tear gas into a crowd of white supremacists a few months back?” 

Domino sipped her drink with a tiny pleased smile. “No.”

-

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you go from drummer in a punk band to home econ teacher?” Peter found himself asking, three beers further down his road to inebriation. Three people Peter could barely remember had stopped by their table by then trying to chat Peter up, but one sharp comment from Wade or MJ had them all scurrying before Peter could manage an uncomfortable hello. Peter was already fantasizing about sucking Wade off in thanks. 

“Someone’s gotta teach those fuckers how to use a sewing machine. Have you seen the stupid shit teenagers wear these days?”

“Yes. I wore the same wardrobe in the 90s. It was a poor choice then, too.”

“Nah, you stuck to nerdy t-shirts and those jeans that used to make all the little Freshies swoon.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “No one ever swooned over me. Stop dodging the question. What made you go into teaching?”

Wade’s easy smile slipped off his face, replaced with something quiet and dark. “When I left the service and got through enough physical therapy to function again, all I wanted to do was help people. I figured teaching was the best way to do that, but I’m not smart enough to teach math or science or some shit.”

Peter frowned. “That’s a bold-faced lie. You had the second best grades in Physics II, when you were there to do the work.” That hadn’t been all the time. His seat had been empty as much as it was occupied.

Wade shrugged, looking at the wall behind Peter’s shoulder instead of making eye contact. “I knew how to sew, and I’ve been cooking for myself since I was tall enough to reach the stove. I figured home econ was the best avenue for me.”

Peter mulled this over for a bit, twisting the neck of his bottle between his fingers absently. “How long were you in the service?” he finally asked.

“Seven years. Joined up right after graduation, got recruited for Special Forces a year in. Probably would still be in if it weren’t for this.” He waved a hand over his body, indicating the scars. He’d lost his jacket an hour before, and Peter could see mottled skin under the colorful tattoos running up and down Wade’s arms. 

Peter traced the indentation of a scar up Wade’s bicep, fingers following the lines of Jem riding a Lisa Frank-style unicorn up towards his massive shoulder where a portrait of the Golden Girls was surrounded by giant palm fronds and rosemallows. “Is it too personal to ask what happened?”

Wade shook his head, his eyes following Peter’s fingers tracing over the tattoos. “Mission went wrong. The mark figured out we were tracking them and blew the building we were using as headquarters. Believe it or not, I was lucky to get out with a year of recovery and the looks of an over-cooked baked potato. Most of my team didn’t make it home.”

Peter’s heart sank. He wanted to crawl into Wade’s lap and hold him forever. But the other, darker part of his brain wondered if the bomb had been stamped with the Stark brand. Peter hadn’t joined the company until after Tony Stark had seen the error of his ways and shifted production to renewable energy and medical equipment, but five years ago he was the largest weapons supplier in the world. And Peter knew there were plenty of people—board members included—who would like nothing more than to snatch that title back from H.A.M.M.E.R. Peter tried not to let it fuck with his sleep at night, but it was a hard battle. 

“That must have been challenging,” he said instead of all the other things he wanted to, like what were their names and what was the mission. It was probably classified, and even if it hadn’t been, it wasn’t his business.

Wade shrugged like it didn’t matter and swallowed the last of his bottle in one gulp. “’S what we signed up for.” He peered inside his empty bottle with an annoyed look and stood up from the booth. “This shit isn’t doin’ it for me. Wanna go do some shots?” he asked, holding a hand out to Peter without looking at him.

Peter took in the tight jaw muscles and tense shoulders and nodded, even though he knew he was going to regret it in the morning. Getting Wade drunk sounded like a fabulous idea. He took Wade’s hand and let him drag him out of the booth and over to the bar without another word. 

-

Peter giggled as Wade crowded him back against the alley wall and boxed him in with forearms framing his head. He didn’t remember how they got back here, but he thought it had something to do with last call. “Why’d you have a goat?” he asked, still giggling. 

“Rescued him from the 4-H club. Those douchebags were trying to make him eat organic.” 

“The horror of horrors.”

Wade gazed at him adoringly, eyes crinkling at the edges as he leaned in. “Let me guess, you eat wheatgrass in your morning smoothies now, you cute little fancy pants genius, you.”

“I’ll have you know I’d eat a vendor hot dog out of the gutter if it had enough sauerkraut on it. My aunt used to call  _ me _ a goat.” He probably shouldn’t have been proud of that fact, but he also probably shouldn’t have drank that fifth shot, so really, he was past the point of shame. The only thing that mattered was that the darkness had fled from Wade’s eyes, and Peter had a vested interest in keeping it at bay. If he liked being crowded against a brick wall and kissed silly, well, that was just bonus points.

“That is so hot,” Wade murmured, leaning in close enough for their lips to brush without actually kissing him. He seemed to be waiting for something, a glowing neon sign over Peter’s head begging for a tongue in his mouth maybe. 

Peter made a disgruntled sound and pulled Wade the rest of the way against him with a hand fisted in the front of his shirt. And then suddenly there was that tongue, and Peter was moaning contentedly, melting into Wade’s warmth and slipping a knee between Wade’s legs while Wade kissed him breathless. It was better than he could have ever imagined, and he imagined this kiss so many different ways. Wade’s lips weren’t as smooth as they had been in his mind, but so much more vigilant, moving just the way Peter liked, his tongue stroking against Peter’s without overwhelming him. Peter’s entire body hummed at the contact, and it wasn’t even the alcohol to blame. 

“If you don’t take me home and fuck me, I’m going to have you arrested for criminal negligence of my dick,” Peter growled when Wade pulled away to kiss him on the nose. 

Wade hummed against his throat and trailed kisses up to his ear, where he whispered in an unfairly seductive voice, “Or I could take you home, tuck you into my guest bed, and wake you up in the morning for pancakes, and then fuck you. When you’re nice and sober and fully consenting, hmm?”

If Wade had had hair to pull, Peter would have pulled it in annoyance. Instead, he threaded his fingers through Wade’s against the wall and dug his nails into the back of Wade’s hand. “I’ve been fantasizing about being held down and fucked by you since I was fifteen. I can promise you I consent no matter how many shots I’ve let you convince me into drinking.” Wade didn’t stop kissing his jawline, only squeezed back and stroked his thumb over Peter’s. 

“Stop being so stubborn; it’s one of my kinks,” he murmured, nudging his nose up the bridge of Peter’s and depositing a gentle kiss on the middle of his forehead. 

Peter made a frustrated noise, annoyed with how sweet Wade was being even as he blue-balled the hell out of him. “Why’d you bring me into an alley if you weren’t planning to fuck me?”

“Sweetheart, this was your idea. I wanted to go to the parking lot and drive you home. But I’m not about to deny someone as cute as you your every whim.”

“Except sex. You seem to have no problem denying me sex.” Grumpy drunk Peter was coming out to play the longer no one’s hands were on his dick, and he wasn’t even sorry about it. He dropped his hands from Wade’s and slipped out from between his arms, leaving Wade in the alley to go find the car. “These pancakes better be fucking fantastic. And I’m not sleeping in the guest room. If I don’t get to sit on your dick tonight, you’re going to cuddle the hell out of me instead,” Peter told him over his shoulder, not caring that two college girls walked past him on the sidewalk with gobsmacked looks on their faces. That was going to be all over the internet tomorrow. Anna Maria was going to skin him and turn him into saltimbocca.

“My pancakes are going to make whatever bullshit designer pancakes Stark has look like literal garbage,” Wade promised from behind him.

“Tony doesn’t use gluten in his pancakes.”

“Blasphemy!” Peter suddenly found himself picked up and swung over a massive shoulder, his already shaky equilibrium shot to hell. He smacked Wade on the ass, shouting protest.

“Are you trying to make me throw up? My blood alcohol level is way too high to be upside down right now.”

“If you can say blood alcohol level without slurring, you’ll survive.” Wade patted the backs of his thighs with the hand not holding him over his shoulder—because Wade was strong enough to pick Peter up and carry him  _ one-handed _ . Peter was not going to let this little feat of strength go to his dick. 

—It went straight to his dick. 

“I hate you,” he whined, fitting his palm over the rock hard glute in his face with a mournful little sigh. Wade laughed at him the whole way to the car.

-

Peter woke up to lips on his throat and a heavy arm wrapped around his waist. He blinked his eyes open, wincing as the light hit his sensitive pupils and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It took way too long to figure out where he was. Fluffy white bedding, a mural of George Michael on the ceiling accented with paintings of golden statues. Wade’s warm weight wrapped around him, his rough lips against Peter’s skin. 

“Sleeping beauty finally awake?” Wade asked, scraping teeth over Peter’s jaw in a gentle tease. 

Peter pushed his face away, beyond annoyed with how chipper he sounded. Peter felt like death. “How are you functional right now? You drank just as much as I did.”

“Aspirin, baby boy. That and I’ve got a good seventy-five pounds on you and an extensive history of drinking my feelings.”

“Why didn’t I get aspirin?” Peter asked, turning onto his side and dragging Wade’s arm with him. 

“You told me the only medicine you wanted was my dick, smacked the pills out of my hand, and then immediately crawled in bed and fell asleep. It was adorable.” Wade squeezed him tight, tucking right up along Peter’s back and hooking a foot over his legs.

Peter tucked his face into the pillow, heat creeping up his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have had those last two shots. Tequila turns me into an asshole quick. Sorry.” 

“Getting bullied’s one of my kinks. It took all my self control not to wake you up and let you yell at me until I made you cum.”

Peter’s brain hurt too much to come up with a response except to snort amusement and burrow back into Wade’s warmth more. He threaded their fingers together over his chest and closed his eyes, humming. “You promised me pancakes,” he said after a while. “World-famous pancakes, if my hazy memory is to be believed.” 

“I wouldn’t be a very good Canadian if my pancake game wasn’t 100%. You wanna come with me for coffee or do it breakfast-in-bed-style?”

“I think I need to brush my teeth before I do it any style.” Peter yawned and stretched his spine out, letting go of Wade’s hand to stretch his arms above his head until he hit headboard. 

“Mmm, I can’t wait to get my dick in you,” Wade muttered with a happy little noise, pressing a sloppy kiss to Peter’s neck before slipping out of bed. “There’s a new toothbrush waiting for you in the bathroom. I’ll get started on those pancakes.”

Peter hummed his agreement, stretching a little longer before finally crawling out of the massive bed himself. He stumbled out of the bedroom door blearily and found the bathroom by feel more than sight, the sounds of Wade down the hall clanking around in the kitchen soft background noise. There was the promised still-packaged toothbrush on the counter, along with the ibuprofen bottle and an empty glass. There was even a folded towel waiting for him, an open invitation to shower. Peter smiled to himself and took the pills dry before going about the business of making himself feel at least semi-human again.

By the time he was out of the shower and walking down the hallway in the pajamas Wade had provided him—too big and baggy for his thin frame, but perfect still because they were Wade’s, and something about wearing his clothes made Peter feel irresistibly sexy—the whole house smelled of baking powder and maple syrup and seared butter. Peter wanted to live in that scent. 

Wade was wearing pajama pants and a frilly apron that looked like a combination of [Hufflepuff uniform and 50s house dress](https://img0.etsystatic.com/062/0/5714069/il_570xN.772722706_o9gz.jpg). Peter raised his eyebrow while he did a once-over. “Project for school?”

Wade grinned, pulling at the frilly hem a little to show off the rounded skirt. “Just for fun. Do you like it?”

Peter approached slowly, taking the whole outfit in. It wasn’t what he would have expected, but somehow it looked really good on him. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Hufflepuff,” he said, slipping his arms around Wade’s shoulders and leaning up on his toes to kiss him. He tasted of hot butter and sugary sweet syrup, like he’d already indulged in their breakfast while Peter was still in the shower. Wade hummed his content as he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist and picked him up to set him on the kitchen island. 

“Good shower?”

“Very clean shower,” he said, emphasizing the ‘clean’ with a nip at Wade’s bottom lip. “Do we have to wait for after breakfast for the extra curriculars, Mr. Wilson, or can we do gym class now?”

“Oh, don’t call me that if you don’t mean it, baby boy. We make that a kink, and I’m gonna get fired for boners in class.” He bit playfully at Peter’s shoulder, tugging the oversized t-shirt out of the way to get to skin. Peter dropped his head to the side to give him room, groaning softly. 

“But you probably look so hot in front of a smart board. Do you wear the apron to class?” 

Wade dragged the hem of the t-shirt up to trace the lines of Peter’s abdominal muscles, his mouth busy on his neck. “Got a different one with the school mascot on it.”

“Is this your getting laid one, then? ‘Cause you’re about to,” Peter told him, wrapping his legs around Wade’s waist and urging his face up for a kiss, wet and warm and familiar even through the haze of Peter’s memories of the night before. 

Wade groaned into the kiss, pulling Peter tighter to him and urging the t-shirt higher up until they were pulling apart to get it off and flung over the other side of the kitchen island. Peter probably shouldn’t have bothered putting it on. “The pancakes are gonna get cold.”

“I think there’s a pretty easy solution to that. You can feed them to me while you fuck me,” Peter suggested, rocking his hips up against Wade’s with a wicked smile. He laid back on the counter propped on one elbow and reached for a fork with the other, cutting into the pancakes that Wade had piled high on a plate for them. Wade watched him with hungry eyes as he forked a triangle of pancake, dipped it in syrup, and held it up to his mouth to take a bite. He moaned when the taste hit his tongue, the perfect level of crisp and fluffy, and Wade had even used real maple syrup. Peter usually went for the cheapest option, boxed mix and colored corn syrup in a microwaveable container. This was like going to pancake nirvana. He all but melted into the counter. “Fuck, that’s good,” he said, forgetting all about being sexy as he reached out for another bite.

Wade watched him mouth agape, pupils blown. “I could watch you eat my food forever and never get bored. Fuck, baby, tell me how much you like them again.” He took the fork from Peter’s hand and began forking more pancakes to feed him, leaning down to suck kisses onto Peter’s chest as he watched him chew. 

Peter took each bite with a happy mewl, rocking his hips up to get closer to Wade. He could already feel himself getting hard, and knew this was about to be the start of a serious food kink. He wasn’t even mad about it. 

Wade picked up the maple syrup bottle shaped like a miniature jug, and dribbled a little onto Peter’s chest. The syrup was pleasantly warm against Peter’s skin, Wade’s tongue following was even better. Peter writhed against the sensation of being licked clean, so lost in it he momentarily forgot how to chew. “You should have your own cookbook. How to seduce a lover in three bites or less. Oh god, do that again,” he demanded, arching his back against the unexpected spark of pleasure when Wade hit a particularly sensitive patch of skin. Wade rewarded his babbling with a teasing nip of teeth on a nipple.

Peter wasn’t even sure when he lost his pants, but he was very aware of pushing up straight again to forcibly remove Wade’s apron and his bottoms, kissing him dirty as he struggled with the ties. “You get an F for ease of removal. An apron shouldn’t be harder to untie than a shibari scene. What the fuck?” he muttered against Wade’s mouth as he fought to untie the thick fabric. 

Wade groaned and kissed him harder, batting his hands away to do it for him. “You know about shibari? Fuck me up, why did I wait so long to fuck you again?”

“Because I was a freshman when you met me?”

“Stupid age gaps,” Wade muttered, pulling the apron over his head and turning around to rustle through the cabinets for a few seconds. He came back with a can of shortening. Peter frowned at it until he realized its purpose and grinned, leaning back against the counter again and spreading his legs up and out of the way. Wade grinned back as he returned to the counter, opening the canister and dropping the lid off to the side. “If you’d told me in high school that fourteen years down the line I’d have little Peter Parker naked on my kitchen counter, covered in maple syrup and waiting to get fucked, I probably would have come to class more.”

“I’m a real motivator,” Peter said with a matching grin. 

“Understatement of the year, baby.” Wade stuck two fingers into the can and scooped out a healthy glob of shortening. 

Within a few minutes, Peter was writhing on the counter, trying to fuck himself back on Wade’s hand, holding onto the edge of the counter above his head with a white-knuckled grip. Wade expertly flicked his fingers over Peter’s prostate, playing him like he used to play the guitar. The rough calluses on his fingertips made his insides sing. 

He gasped as they scraped against his rim, pulling out just enough to slip in a fourth. “You’re gonna kill me. Please, I need your cock in me a decade ago,” Peter whined, on edge and uninterested in anything that didn’t end with Wade fucking him unconscious. 

Wade hummed his agreement, eyes hooded as he watched Peter fall apart on his fingers. He crooked his index and middle finger against Peter’s prostate again, looking like a wolf who caught his prey when Peter cried out. “You ready for me, baby?”

“I’m about to shove you on the floor and sit on your dick if you don’t get it in me immediately. Fuck, you’re making me crazy.” Peter gripped the counter harder, feeling himself start to spiral. How Wade could completely undo him in less than ten minutes was beyond him, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“I almost want to get into a fight just so you’ll hate fuck me later, but no need to get violent just yet, gorgeous.” The fingers disappeared, and Peter was able to gather his sanity enough to climb back onto his elbows to watch Wade pull a condom from a pajamas pocket and rip it open with his teeth. He dipped fingers back in the shortening and dropped the pants with the hand holding the condom and stroked his shaft a few times with the slicked up hand before rolling the condom on. It was like watching a master chef prepare a meal, so smooth, so practiced. 

Peter waited with bated breath as he lined up, teasing at Peter’s hole with an evil little smirk meant to drive Peter crazy. A whine was building in his throat the longer Wade teased him, but it burst out in a loud cry when Wade finally pushed in, filling him in one fluid motion that had him seeing stars. “Fuck! Oh fuck, yeah…” he cried out incoherently, dropping back into his back and gripping the counter again. Wade’s dick was better than every dirty fantasy he’d ever had, horny and desperate in his bedroom at fifteen. 

Wade pulled back and slammed in with a hard thrust just to watch Peter writhe. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You know, Mr. Parker, the countertop offers us some creative ideas,” he said in what could only be his teacher voice.

“Oh?” Peter huffed out, twisting his hips and arching his back to fuck himself on Wade’s too-still hips.

“For example…” Wade took hold of Peter’s thighs just above the knee and pushed, bending Peter in half and lifting Peter clean off the countertop. When Wade thrust again, the angle dragged along Peter’s prostate relentlessly, forcing a full body shudder and a feral shout of pleasure. His eyes were shut too tight to see Wade’s self-satisfied smirk, but he could sense his smirking gaze sizzling on his skin as Wade began to batter his insides with sharp, relentless thrusts. 

He came all over his stomach embarrassingly quickly, unable to hold it in under the onslaught, jizz mixing with the sticky remnants of syrup on his stomach and destroying any semblance of clean he’d had after the shower. He was too fixated on the mesmerized way Wade watched him convulse to mind, literal heart eyes overtaking his smirk. Peter gave him a watery smile, squirming and trembling like a newborn calf taking his first steps.

Wade stared down at him for a long moment, apparently speechless. 

“Do you usually render your students incoherent, or am I just special?” Peter asked, voice hoarse from the involuntary shouting. The question sparked a renewed glint in Wade’s eyes and he yanked Peter back onto his cock by the firm grip he had on Peter’s thighs. Peter shouted surprise, scrambling for purchase on the counter again. 

“Couldn’t have done that good a job if you’re still this mouthy,” Wade muttered, resuming his sharp thrusts. Peter had no recourse but to hold on for the ride and try to stay sane. It didn’t work very well. 

“You’re trying to ruin me for other people, aren’t you? Fuck…” he whined, arching his back when Wade slid out achingly slowly, only to snap back in so fast Peter got dizzy. 

“Obviously. Can’t let you go now that I’ve got you, can I?” Wade reached over to the plate that had been shoved out of the way by Peter’s thigh and cut off a triangle of pancake with a fork, stabbing it and bringing it over to Peter’s mouth. “You said something about feeding you while I fuck you?”

Peter eyed the bite before taking it, having to put all his concentration into chewing so he wouldn’t choke. “How am I ever supposed to leave this apartment with this kind of service?” 

Wade leaned over him as he pulled the empty fork away with a smirk. “You aren’t,” he said with a kiss. Peter didn’t argue.

-

A second shower and a cup of coffee later and Peter was starting to think about the implications of  _ after _ . This thing with Wade could be a one-time thing, but something buzzing just beneath his skin didn’t want it to be. Watching Wade go about cleaning the kitchen while Peter sipped coffee in his bathrobe and told him about working for Stark Industries made him feel pleasantly domestic and comfortable, like this was a typical Sunday afternoon and they did this every weekend. Had been doing it for years. He didn’t hate the feeling.

He got off the stool and went to find his phone, intent on checking with Anna Maria to see what his schedule looked like for the coming week. He found the phone plugged in on the nightstand—obviously something Wade had been thoughtful enough to do for him while he was still drunk the night before. What Peter wasn’t expecting was three missed calls and twenty-two texts from Anna Maria, all before noon. He had a feeling something had not gone well last night. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the message notifications for a long while, trying to wrack his brain to figure out what might have caused a problem. 

He was still at a loss when Wade walked into the bedroom with his coffee mug, mouth open to say something, but his happy expression quickly morphed to concern when he saw Peter. “Everything okay?”

“Uh… don’t know. Did I do something crazy last night?”

“You went home with me.” Wade gave him a cocky grin and a wink, leaning an elbow against the doorframe. 

Peter rolled his eyes, smiling a little. That hadn’t been crazy. “I would have been crazy not to go home with you. No, has to be something… else…” He’d tapped on the text messages while he was talking and found a wall of text from Anna Maria, starting with a video link. Peter clicked on it and found a video of a dark street and a familiar figure walking away from the camera, a larger figure walking after him. As Peter watched, the larger figure picked up the smaller and threw him over his shoulder. The smaller figure—Peter, it was drunk Peter oblivious to being filmed—groped the perfect ass in front of his face and then placed a kiss on it. The video linked to a TMZ article titled ‘Tony Stark’s Protégé’s Night of Drunken Debauchery’. Fuck, how did TMZ even know who Peter was?

“So… huh.”

“What is it?” Wade asked, setting the coffee cup on the nightstand and crawling onto the bed behind Peter to get a look at the phone. “Is that us?”

“Someone filmed us going to the car last night. It’s trending on twitter?” Peter wasn’t sure what to make of it. Yes, he’d been in a spread for Forbes’, but that article hadn’t even been the cover story. How could he even begin to rank on a website that usually covered Disney star meltdowns?

Wade slipped his hand around Peter’s waist and flattened his palm against his bare stomach, the warmth of the touch more reassuring than he probably realized or meant. “Does that mean we’re famous?”

“I guess? I don’t think my assistant’s happy about it, though.” He skimmed through the texts, leaning his back against Wade’s chest to soak in his skin. There was a lot of stuff about responsibility to the company and being publicly outed, blah, blah, blah. The more Peter read it, the less he cared. Maybe it was lingering afterglow of the best sex of his life, but honestly, what good was being the protégé of Tony Stark if you couldn’t fuck up a little every now and then? He dropped the phone back onto the bed, turned to face Wade with a smile, climbing up onto his lap and wrapping his arms around Wade’s waist.

“We should probably do some more to earn this bad boy reputation, if that’s what I’ve got now, right?”

“Oh baby, you don’t even know what a bad boy looks like,” Wade teased, pulling him in by his hips with a sly smile.

Peter cocked his head to the side. “I think I’ve done more than look at one.” He rocked his hips up with a grin and swooped in for a solid kiss, not even noticing when the phone slid off the bed with dull thud on the carpet below. 

Anna Maria called twice more. He let them go to voicemail. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want writing updates from me, you can follow me on Twitter [@RonsPigwidgeon](https://twitter.com/RonsPigwidgeon), [Tumblr](https://mscaptainwinchester.tumblr.com/), [NewTumbl](https://mscaptainwinchester.newtumbl.com/), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/MsCaptainWinchester).
> 
> And if you'd like to come yell about Spideypool with me, join the 18+ Discord server I co-mod, [Isn't It Bromantic](https://discord.gg/w6UyAn7)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Butter Me Up, Batter Me Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037383) by [WaterMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterMe/pseuds/WaterMe)




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